Rochester Discourse - Federick Douglas
Wind, word, sail
The helm is turned
On the oar of the tongue
Against the tide of laws
The righteous cause
Will its litany and prevail
O could the dock
Materialize again
Out of the euphoria of the brain
O could not relay of metered sound
Measure out spoon by empty spoon
The empty wait
And the immediacy of the state
You were a tower
Better than Babel or rainless flower
You were answerer and caller
With exact mimetic
Of the horrific hour
That children go round and round
Sunless in the shadow
I never let the moon get into my blood
The universe is just a batch of mud.
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